The sheets are creamy against my skin, and the pillows are downy and full of air, but I lie there, staring at the ceiling. It’s not the first time I’ve slept here, but I don’t like that it’s become something that we do now.

The first time, Neil came wandering after me. He crawled in next to me and his whispered apology fell into my hair as his fingers moved softly through the ends of my hair.

I thought it would never happen again. That’s what he said – that’s what we promised.

But then it did, and he came after me again. We promised not to fight like this, with words full of anger and ugliness; that we would talk about the real issues, and not snap at each other over the smallest things.

But it happened again, and again and then suddenly one night I was here and he didn’t come after me. In the morning, everything looked the same, and I had to act as if it was because we didn’t want Nyla and Emma to be affected. And then I forgot that I was pretending until we fought again. I don’t even remember what half of the fights are about. I lie there at night trying to figure it out, because if I’m sleeping in a different bed to him then shouldn’t I know what’s pushing me there?

I pull my phone close and go through my gallery until I find the folder I’m looking for - pictures from our wedding. And then I scroll and scroll and wonder why I feel so different from that smiling girl.

Neil and I have everything – a beautiful house and two healthy kids and he has a great job, we’re debt-free and financially secure, and have sex regularly – amazing sex – and yet…

And yet.

I turn the screen off, wipe my face quickly, and shut my eyes. It’s not my fault that we’re here.

He tries to make me feel like it is but it isn’t.

*

In the morning, I get Nyla up and bathed and dressed for kindergarten, and then we head downstairs for breakfast.

Neil puts on the coffee like he does every morning, and Emma is balanced on his hip.

“Hey, bee!” He says brightly, getting out some cereal. “Whatcha havin’ today?” 

It’s a silly running joke they have, Neil asks Nyla what she’s having for breakfast and she says something ridiculous. I don’t know how it started or where they picked it up from but it’s part of our routine, and the moment I hear Neil say those words, my shoulders stiffen. We’re back to pretending everything is fine.

“A bowl of rocks!” Nyla says, climbing onto her usual seat at the table.

“Good, I woke up extra early today and found some good ones for ya,” Neil responds, pouring the cereal into the bowl in front of Nyla.

He pours her some milk, and wordlessly, I take Emma from him to get her something a little easier to eat than cereal. She’s still in her pajamas – I usually give her a bath after dropping Nyla off at school.

In the background is Good Morning Auland, and there’s a man who taught his dog to play the drums. It could be any other morning, but it isn’t. 

I’m tired of pretending.

Instead of putting Emma in her booster seat, I keep her in my lap, nestling against her as she eats.

Neil places a cup of coffee in front of me, and when I look up, he gives me an apologetic smile. I turn away and look back at my coffee. The gesture would have meant something if we didn’t keep having the same fight over and over again.

I take a sip, not tasting anything.

I guess the coffee acts as a precedence for the rest of the day – I go through it like a zombie – not tasting, not hearing, not seeing or feeling. I feel outside of myself somehow, far removed from my body and the life it’s trying to live, going through the motions.

Ari comes over for dinner. It’s been a few months since he broke up with Anya and I still don’t know what happened, because neither of them will say anything. It was a little awkward trying to figure out how to live around their break-up, but Neil and I are making it work so far. We just don’t invite them over at the same times anymore, which is hard, especially when we had gotten used to having dinners with the kids and all four of us, or hanging out altogether on the weekend, going to the beach, or up to Neil’s family’s cabin. Nyla has only just stopped asking Ari where my sister is, or asking my sister if Ari is coming too. 

Usually, we’d all sit in the living room, or out on the deck, having a glass of wine and talking. I’d choose something for dinner that wouldn’t need constant tending to, like a roast or a slow-cooked stew. I make a stir-fry today, with fried rice and a salad, and when we sit down for dinner I smile and try to keep up with the conversation but find myself lapsing into silence. All I can think about is how Neil and I will keep pretending, even when Ari leaves until the next fight comes up.

I follow the slope of my wineglass with my finger as it widens towards the base, and Neil reaches for my hand. I pull away, catching Ari’s eyes as I look up.

“Uncle Ari, can you do a cartwheel?” Nyla asks. He turns his attention to her, but she barely pauses for an answer. “It’s when you go like this!” She makes her fork do a cartwheel through the rice on her plate. “My friend Lindsey can do one and her dad can do one and he says he’s going to teach me, right mommy? That’s what he said at the park!” She’s talking very loudly; she usually gets excited when there’s a guest at the table.

“Eat your dinner, Ny,” I say, quietly.

We finish eating, and I rise to clear the plates away.

“You want some help?” Neil offers.

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Okay,” He says.

I set Emma down on a mat near the sink, where I can see her, and Nyla brings a few toys over so she can play with her sister before bed.

When I’m done, I tell Nyla to go get Neil so he can get the girls ready for bed. Emma toddles after her sister, so I put their toys away carefully, and then top up my wine glass with the last of the bottle and stroll out to the backyard up onto the deck, letting my lungs fill with the cold night air.

I hear the glass door from the living room slide open, and turn to see Ari.

“Hey,” He says, stuffing his fingers in his pockets against the chill.

“Hey.”

“It’s cold out here,” He says. I shrug, even though I’m only in a loose shirt and a thin, open sweater.

“I don’t mind,” I tell him.

He nods once, and walks slowly over to the railing beside me.

“What’s going on with you and Neil?” He asks, after a minute.

“Nothing.” I say, without looking at him.

“Well things have felt kinda… off the last few times I’ve been here,” He says.

I shrug again. “Everything’s fine, Ar.”

“Lyss,” He insists. I turn to him finally.

“What happened with you and my sister?” I ask.

The question throws him off, just as I intended it to. He looks away, a sad, embarrassed smile playing on his lips.

“Fair point,” he admits.

There is silence. I take a long sip of the merlot. It’s Neil’s favorite.

“How is your new apartment?” I ask.

His turn to shrug. “It’s good,” He says. his eyes meet mine after a moment. “A little sterile.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. I balance the wineglass on the deck railing and wrap my fingers around the edge of the bar.

He watches me for a long moment. “Are you really okay?” he asks. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on with you and Neil but at least tell me that much.”

“It doesn’t really matter, Ar.” That’s the truth of the matter anyhow. It doesn’t matter how I feel.

“Lyss,” I lift my eyes to look at him, but tears fill my eyes and he wavers before me. He takes a step closer. I turn away, press my fingers to my closed eyelids and wipe away my tears quickly with the heel of my hand. “I’m fine,” I insist, with a dismissive sigh.

“Why don’t you go stay with your sister?” he asks. I shake my head. “Lyss,”

“She’s been different ever since you guys broke up,” I explain. “Distant.”

“She wouldn’t turn you away,” He says.

“I know,” I give him a small grateful smile. “It’s just…” I sigh, running my hands through my hair. I wore it straight today. “I’ll text her,” I say, yielding. “Maybe we just need a couple of days apart like you said.”

He gives me a small, encouraging smile. I return it with my own tired one, rubbing my hands over my face.

“Why are you helping me?” I ask. “You’re Neil’s best friend.”

“I’m also your almost-brother-in-law,” He says. I laugh. “I still care about you,” He continues. “And we’re friends in our own right.”

“Either way, thanks Ar.”

“You’re welcome.” He says.